Just A Way Of Life
by everyone'ssister
Summary: STANFORD ERA. Sam leaves for Stanford and John soon follows his footsteps away from Dean. Alone for the first time his life, the oldest Winchester brother finds himself unsure of who he is, and what he really wants his life to look like. He reaches out to an old friend for help and stability, and goes back to the only place he was ever both safe, and happy.
1. Chapter 1

This is for Tarane who promoted me as follows;

Can I have a story request?!

You know today I was rewatching the great episode "Bad Boys" again! I was wondering if it's possible that you write a story of Dean revisiting Sonny for the first time after the night he left, and I'd like it to be in the Stanford era!

THANK YOU SO MUCH Tarane! You're one of my most faithful readers and reviewers, which means the world to me! This is for you, thank you!

Chapter 1.

Dean stands in a old gray tile-walled bathroom, his bare feet cold on the floor of the same material. Anyone watching him would wonder what he stares at. What has such a hopeless, sad, gray look on his face? What has the questioning look in his eyes, what question is it that makes him sigh in defeat when he cannot find the answer?

In front of him on the wall hangs a large mirror. Stained with mold and still blurry with steam from Dean's too-hot shower. His face looks back at him.

His face. Dean tells himself, over and over, 'My face.'

All the same Dean doesn't know the man, the face, in the mirror. The mind in this man's head, the heart in this man's chest...what does it beat for? The soul he can feel flickering and occasionally flaming to life in his own being...who is it?

Who am I? He wonders hopefully and stares into the mirror as has been his habit since Sam walked out and left him to fight off the shadows of this haunting life by himself.

The lips of his reflection quirk into a sad excuse for a smile as Dean thinks of the long-haired, fox-eyed boy that had left his side to make himself into something more. Into a man.

So why can't Dean figure out who he is? Why can't Dean make himself too?

Since the younger Winchester brother went to go make a life for himself, Dean's has been a whirlwind of change. Without Sam, John sees no reason to work any harder to keep the family together.

Dean wakes one morning to find him gone. The only trace of John a piece of paper on the bathroom mirror; an assignment for a hunt. No information about where he left to, just what he wants from Dean.

The obedient little soldier. The perfect son.

Abandoned.

Dean knows it doesn't add up. He doesn't think about it. Being alone hurts enough, being alone leaves him vulnerable enough. Dean Winchester is seldom afraid. He gets a high from danger, he likes the slick of the blood of his enemies on his hands. But after the hunt, driving down the highway, eating at some disgusting diner...he is alone.

The quiet midnight hours when no one is around to care for him...when no one is around for Dean to care for...then he is afraid. The tendrils of fear creep around his soul and he wonders, is this how I live? Is this how my life goes by?

He heaves a deep sigh and turns away from the mirror. Question still unanswered, his meaning and purpose still lost in the abyss that is himself, his heart, and his soul.

TV is noise in the background, guns on the bed and by the door reflect the growing distrust he's developing of everyone and everything. The bottle of jack he can toss back in one evening shows his disregard for himself. He's well and truly lost. No longer a son, no longer a brother.

Dean is now lost in the only thing left to identify himself by.

Hunter. Killer. Loner.

The neon lights from tonight's motel shines through the window and lights on his face. He lies awake for most of his nights listening to late night truckers drunkenly stubble past his door to their rooms. Listens to the heavy eighteen wheelers rush past the thin walls on the highway. His fingers play a beat against his sternum, the feeling and sound rushing and slowing his heart beat all night.

When he wakes in the morning he stares in the mirror. The black shadows under the stranger's eyes grow worse, and Dean turns away from the mirror each time uncertain and still lost.

...

The impala, faithful as ever, carries him west. Her rumble fills his cold heart with a little warmth every time he cranks her up. She vibrates under him as she carries him over America's free soil even though his heart feels enslaved to chase after Sam and his dad. His mind always wondering what they're doing, where they are. Do they see each other? Do they talk? Is he the only one alone?

Baby's trunk acquires new weapons. Dean has so many hunts and kills under his belt. He fights against creatures he doesn't even recognize, he kills things no one can explain to him. The high of the hunt leaves him panting with the cold night's air grating and burning his lungs, cough coming out hoarse and choppy. Sounds horrible, and too old and sickly for Dean Winchester.

He learns to study and love something about every face he sees...he is not alone. He may sleep around a little, but the girls he spends a night with are not faceless skanks to him. Each night he remembers the warm touches, wet kisses...eyes that light up when they see him. The closest thing to love he can find out in the wildness of lonely life.

Some nights he gives up on sleep, lets the impala cradle him safe and familiar. Her hum wrapping him with memories of his Mom and nights he and Sammy shivered with cold and fear until they fell asleep while John hunted. He sits staring at Sam's contact, his finger hovering over the 'call' button hesitantly.

Always too scared of being ignored, he jerks his eager finger away and snaps the phone shut...he lives by the hope Sam waits for him to call, tells himself Sammy would pick up in a heart beat. He shakes his head at himself as he pulls out onto the highway, avoids seeing the ghostly familiar face in the rearview mirror.

Stars wink over Baby's hood as the black midnight pavement disappears under her. Dean rolls down the windows and listens to the cricket's all natural lullaby. He lets out a sigh. Content almost. He's made his peace with this, or has he? His fingers hang out the window, playing with the wind, being pushed this way and that. Forced to conform to the stronger force of rushing air.

Being blown along without a say of when and where...like Dean.

He purses his lips as a text message beeps into his phone. John. A hunt a few stars away from the last hunt he had assigned Dean.

The elder Winchester brother chuckles dryly to himself. As if he just sits around waiting for John after each and every hunt. It was sometimes a month in between texts from his father. Screw you dad, he thinks, tossing the cellphone to the back seat.

The night was his time. He did what he wanted, he went where the wind blew...his brand of freedom.

Tall, strong trees and singing crickets in Colorado have him unconsciously heading east towards Virginia and New York. He doesn't know what exactly is calling to him until he feels that ache in his soul to belong somewhere. To belong to someone again. He stares at wrinkled pictures of he and Sam somewhere just inside the border of New York.

Dean ignores the growing ache the farther from California he gets and books a room in a motel. The one place he knows to be like himself most is about as far away from Cali as you can get. Be safe Sammy, he thinks, as he gulps down a cold one and glances over the map and the back roads of New York.

Dean sleeps. He wakes pleasantly surprised, and ignores the couple of angry texts from his dad. He splashes cold water from the bathroom sink over his face, avoids the mirror this morning. Hoping that tonight when he finds another looking glass, he'll find something resembling himself.

The crisp cool air burns in his lungs as he unlocks the impala's door and throws his duffle bag in the back seat. He thinks distantly his chest isn't supposed to burn so bad, his hands aren't supposed to have a little shake. He tosses back a few painkillers he fishes out of the bottom of his first aid kit, also realizes a little numbly that there should be more in there, he hasn't taken that many has he?

New York's green forests rush by him, rolling farm fields stretch out before Dean and his heart feels lighter with every mile. He starts to recognize familiar happy sights long buried in gruesome darker memories. He only allows himself to think once that Sammy should have grown up some place like this.

The air clear and clean, people kind and sincere, neighbors more like family. His heart aches deep at this, the loneliness descends like a fog. He shrugs, used to the crushing weight. When the radio plays a familiar tune he smiles and tries not to think about the times he listened to it with his little brother.

He shakes the melancholy off by turning up the music louder than his thoughts and driving miles faster than the speed limit advised, the wind whipping around him through the windows drowning out anything but him sitting behind Baby's wheel.

He's smiling, swamped with fond memories as he pulls into the dirt road leading up a hill and to big, green oak trees. The distant sound of a tractor running and kids yelling somewhere works like a time machine and suddenly he's sixteen again.

Alone.

He stops the impala, his gaze resting on the large white, farm house. Standing tall and beautiful just like in his memories. The tress casting shadows against it, making the yard cool. He used to know himself here, he used to know what he wanted. Young selfish boy had been able to forget father, brother and lives to save for two months. Dean nearly regrets that he left, but then his thoughts go back to Sammy.

Sam may have left him, but Dean would always be there for him.

Here crickets still sing, here the trees still tower above him. Here his chest still aches, here he's still alone. Sam and John still left him and it that still hurts. And he would still do anything for them. He's still lost, still over-tired, still sick...

Still misses his little brother so bad it's like a punch in the stomach.

He wonders if coming here will help, wonders if he can lose all the pain and find something of himself again. But the more and more he lives this way, the more time passes the more he's realizing, the gaping hole in his heart...missing them...is just a way of life.

tbc...

Thank u for reading! Plz review if u want more!

Author's note; I've always loved the picture of Dean we get in the very first episode. It's the most we ever see Dean as his own man. Even tho the people he loves mostly makes Dean Winchester who he is, seeing who he is when he just has to live with himself is a neat picture. I tried to do him justice.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2.

Sonny isn't that old. But he's older than the boys he tries to help. And the boys he takes in run circles around him. He leaves the help with the boys removing rocks from a field they are about to till and heaves his aching bones up the hill to the back of the house and into the kitchen where he sighs deep as he gulps down a drink of water.

Standing at the sink he can see bits and pieces of the front yard. He frowns at the sight of an unfamiliar vehicle pulled up under the trees. He's only able to make out the sharp profile of the man sitting in the driver's seat. Dangerous...is all he can think. The make and year of the car makes tickling recognition spring up in the back of his mind. He's seen that midnight black beauty somewhere before...

Wandering into the living room he leans on his knees in the couch and looks out the window through the curtains. It's then that he notices the stillness of the figure inside the car. The way the man seems transfixed staring up at the white house, it as if he knows it, as if he's remembering it...

"No friggin' way," he whispers to himself, off the couch so fast he put those boys to shame.

His mind finally places the sleek, black hunk of metal as the car that had carried away a boy that had been like a son to him. Remembers the teary-eyed, silent-strong, tough as nails kid that had turned his back on a bright future for his family.

Unlike most of the boys, Sonny had known Dean knew the amazing second chance he was given. And he'd given it up for his little brother, for his father, to save innocent people. Every time Sonny thought of Dean freaking Winchester his mind was blown. He didn't even want to think about the life that had shaped such a young boy into such a wise, noble human being.

And now he's got a feeling; his boy has come back.

He's out on the front porch, screen door screeching closed behind him before he knows it. Down the stairs and slower, and a little more cautious towards the car. After all he didn't know if this really was Dean. And even then, he hadn't seen the boy in ten years.

As he gets closer he makes out the sharp features of the young men sitting there and it's definitely Dean. Brightest green eyes a person would ever see, devilish good looks anyone would be envious of, a sardonic twist to his lips even as his face sags emotionlessly.

But his Dean had ever looked like this...dark bags under his eyes, the red bloodshot whites making the green stand out even more. His skin whiter than ever, freckles standing out, his cheeks a worrying flushed color.

He watches as Dean runs both hands through his hair and down his face, eyes blinking tiredly, almost vacantly...up at the farm house and huge tall oaks. He hasn't even seen Sonny, which worries the older man. Even as a kid Dean was creepy aware of his surroundings, Sonny had always known it was a reflection of the type of life he led.

What was so different, so much worse now that after ten years Dean had come back looking like death warmed over? Is Dean alright? His brother? His dad? Sonny slowly walked up to the driver's side window not wanting to startle the young man, but Dean doesn't notice him.

The green eyes reflect regret and uncertainty, but Sonny is struck dumb by the amount of pain in his boy's features. After a few moments he raps two fingers on the glass.

Dean jumps, body immediately turning towards him defensively even though glass still separates them. His eyes shoot lightening fast to Sonny's face and then everything about him tenses even more and Sonny doesn't know what it's about, but he can see insecurities flashing across Dean's face in a quantity he doesn't even want to think about.

Dean opens the door and slides his legs out, coming to stand. He's grown up even taller, even more sturdily built than Sonny had expected. He's a man among men. So why is he broken?

"D-dawg?" Sonny asks, coming a step closer.

Dean's leaning towards him and the older man opens his arms to give and accept an embrace that hints at just how deep their bond with each other actually was. As Dean Winchester leans towards him, Sonny gets a quick glimpse of the marble, icy countenance crumbling. He holds the trembling young man in his arms thinking that this is, by no means, alright.

For ten years Dean hadn't been low enough to come crawling back to this safe haven and now he was here. Sonny knew lost and broken when he saw it. And that was Dean.

...

As Dean sits in front of Sonny's house he thinks back to all the years ago. Thinks back to what Sonny had tried to do for him, how Dean had turned his back on all that. What was he doing here? For all he knew Sonny hated him, hated the wasted time and resources spent on his sorry ass ten years ago.

He sighs and runs his hands over greasy hair, stinging eyes and tired face. Why had he let himself drift up this far north? By all rights he should have been taking the hunt in Arkansas John had sent him. He was nothing to Sonny except another disappointment. Fond memories were the only thing left to comfort him, why did he come here for them to be ruined?

He was so over tired, his eyes burned, but he doubted he could sleep. His lungs burned with every breath, he shivered even though his skin was dry and hot. Too much work...he thinks, run myself a little dry. Dean Winchester wasn't sick, he didn't do sick.

The rapping on his window nearly gives him a heart attack. He's immediately on the defense, and every muscle his body coils up when he sees an older version of Sonny staring down at him, expression unreadable.

Does he even recognize Dean? Because Dean doesn't recognize himself most days.

He knows there's no going back now and opens the door with a heaving sign. As he stands he watches unexpected emotion wash over Sonny's face. The kind of look Dean never had from his father. He's afraid of not being accepted, he's frightened of being a disappointment to someone else he loves.

"D-dawg?" Sonny asks quietly, disbelievingly.

His special nickname falls from Sonny's lips effortlessly and Dean's heart constricts thinking of the happy days he spent here. And then the older man is leaning towards arms ready to encircle him. No questions asked, just acceptance and Dean and melts into it. He feels his wall crumbling, knows Sonny is about to get flooded with all the mess that is Dean Winchester.

He knows better than anyone would think that he's in rough shape, knows he's so washed up it's not even funny. And he lets himself lean into Sonny and not think about his macho man image, trusts this friend to know what he needs.

He can feel the shock and worry coming off Sonny in waves and knows he should stand straight and smile at him, but he also can't seem to control the trembling in his own body, everything about him feels heavy, his heart feels as if it's open, the contents oozing out. He just wants to be safe somewhere and sleep for an eternity.

"Dean?" Sonny asks, from somewhere faraway, and Dean answers he thinks.

"Dean, you with me?" Sonny's voice asks again, and Dean laughs. He just got here, of course his with Sonny.

Sonny pulls away from him and Dean's heart sinks. But a warm arm remains around his waist supporting him and he thinks Sonny must be leading him up to the house. Colors and movement have blended all into one in his vision.

"The hell happened to you?" He hears Sonny mumble and flinches away from the disgruntled tone.

"Hey, hey, Dean," Sonny's drawl reaches out to him, "Its alright, calm down, it's okay."

The toe of his boot catches on the underside of one of the stairs and he stumbles, god what is wrong with him? Nearly to the door a cough doubles him over with pain and shortness of breath.

"Let's just get inside," Sonny's muffled voice comforts, and Dean guesses a slurred curse probably escaped his lips.

He grits his teeth as the screen door screeches and his headache threatens to send daggers through his eyes.

He made it 'home' to Sonny he thinks numbly as the older man eases him onto the old worn couch. But he still feels empty. He's a little safer, he doesn't feel so teetering close to the breaking edge...but he's still lost the things that make him, well, make him Dean.

His want for Sam is still a crushing weight on his chest, the ache of knowing John is disappointed in him is still bone deep. But Sonny's hand warm on his shoulder is making him relax, the warmth of the farm house air settling easier in his rasping lungs.

He knows he shouldn't crash here, it would just an inconvenience to Sonny and the boys, but his vision is darkening before he can get himself up again. He thinks he breathes out an apology before he lets his heavy head finally rest back against the cushions, and blissful darkness overtakes his consciousness.

...

Sonny's heart sinks as he holds the trembling young man in his arms. He feels the dry heat wafting off Dean, hears each rattling breath. His boy isn't doing so good he can tell, after few minutes he knows Dean must have zoned out after having made it to this safe place. He knows the feeling himself.

He slowly pulls away from him and frowns at the way Dean tenses and makes a choked noise in his throat. He keeps a steady arm around him and steers them towards the house. His muscles coil and stretch as he realizes he's supporting most of the other man's weight.

He glances up to find Dean's head more or less lolling on his shoulder, his eyes mostly shut, face even paler than before, if possible.

"The hell happened to you?" He mumbles, and immediately regrets it as Dean shies away from him, whining in his throat, without realizing it Sonny's sure.

"Hey hey Dean," he drawls softly, "It's alright, calm down, it's okay."

Dean stops pulling away and returns to slumping against Sonny his feeling lifting sluggishly, a boot getting caught on the steps. Sonny grunts and Dean just breathes heavier than ever, breaths crackling in his lungs. A hacking cough nearly bending him over, and Sonny just frowns deeper, his heart aching.

Dean tenses and mumbles something as the screen door bangs behind them, and Sonny thinks for the one hundredth time they should replace the old rusty thing, it was probably a safety hazard.

He and Dean more or less fall towards the couch and Dean sinks like a stone, barely holding is he's head up as his body slumps weakly. Sonny turns to grab a blanket and looks back to find Dean's eyes look panicked for a moment. His breathing speeding up even more, Sonny is amazed he's still conscious.

Dean's lips movie listlessly for a moment and he Sonny catches a rasped, "Sorry Sonny." Dean's body finally gives out on him and pale eyelids cover haunted, bloodshot eyes. Sonny heaves a sigh and guides Dean's head down to a throw pillow, draping the blanket over his figure.

He doesn't know the story, but Sonny knows Dean's in bad shape. Physically and mentally. He never took Dean for one who would do drugs or anything like that. He'd always been to responsible.

He does know that Dean is too young to be so run down, too hung for his breathes to take so much effort, too young to look so damn haunted that Sonny can't meet his eyes for thirty seconds straight.

But he knows one thing, Dean will always have a place here, will always have Sonny's protection and respect. Whatever he needed Sonny would help him.

He'd get his answers later. Right now he didn't want to let Dean down, didn't want to betray his trust. Wanted Dean to keep the belief that this was a safe haven for him.

"Glad you came here, kid," is all he mumbles as he smooths sweaty hair from Dean's forehead.

tbc...

If u like it, Plz review!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3.

When Dean wakes he's looking into the biggest, saddest brown eyes ever. And he thinks, I've finally gone and done it. Finally called Sam in his sleep, finally broken down and begged him to come back. (Imsosorrysammyitriedbutpleaseineedtoseeyoupleaseimsotiredandandineedyou...) He imagines John's disappointed scowl when Sam calls him asking where the hell Dean is, and why he's a sobbing mess on the phone in the middle of the night.

With a sharp intake of breath he's shooting up thinking, oh no, please don't let me have done it, please... Brown eyes go even wider and and disappear from view. Dean is too overcome with dizziness and nausea to worry about that at the moment, he's left blinking in the late afternoon sun light, jaw locked shut so as not to throw up.

Oh. Right. He's at Sonny's. He grimaces thinking surely Sonny didn't let him go calling people in his sleep. (Please, please, please.) He places a shaky hand in the cushions of the couch to help hold himself upright, and rubs the other hand down his face.

Where is Sonny, and where had the owner of those big brown eyes disappeared off to so quickly?

His second question is answered almost immediately, big glistening brown eyes stare at him from just over the edge of the couch. Dean leans a little forward to see a small body on its hands and knees on the floor. The kid must have hit the floor to hide when Dean jumped awake.

Those soulful eyes stare at Dean curiously and a little cautiously from under a mop of brown hair, slowly fingers creep up to grip the edge of the cough, but he makes no other movement.

"Hey there," Dean says, voice a little rough from disuse, "You gonna get off the floor? It's okay, c'mon out. I'm not gonna hurt you."

Dean's got to give the boy credit, he ignores Dean's assurances and just stares at him a bit longer. Doesn't sit up straight on his knees until he's comfortable. He's a tiny little thing and Dean can't help but draw the comparison of this little boy and the way Sammy used to look as a kid.

"Hey there," Dean says, sitting forward, elbows on his knees. "What's your name, huh?" When he gets no response, "I'm Dean, nice to meet you."

He gets no name and no smile, but the boy gets to his feet and stands a few feet away from Dean. Just tall enough to look straight across the distance and into the sitting man's eyes.

Dean purses his lips and his shoulders sag a little.

"Don't take it personally," a voice from the door says, and Dean startles to find Sonny watching them. "Little Jay there isn't much one for the talking."

Sonny is shocked to find Jay standing in front of Dean, watching him with more ease than the boy had shown since he'd come to Sonny. Jay hadn't uttered a single word in all the time he'd been here, or for what Sonny knew since he'd entered the system.

He knew the story, it was so many children's stories. Abusive dad, scared, helpless, irresponsible mom. Basically a recipe for a messed up kid. In Jay's case it had only gotten worse.

The only part of the story Sonny knew in detail, was that late one night the little boy had witnessed his father end his mother's life. Since then the haunted eyed little boy hadn't spoken a single word, shied away from big mean with deep voices.

Sonny's heart ached thinking of the confusion and anger and hurt that must fill the boy's mind and soul. So his surprise was understandable when he watched Jay look six-two Dean Winchester with a deep rumbling voice in the eye.

Dean looks back to the little boy who just looks at him blinking, from him to Sonny and back. Sonny stands straight from where he had been leaning against the door frame and walks over to sit in the armchair left of the couch. He gives Dean an appraising look, and Dean sits back, feeling like something inside him withers, with the awkward silence. Sonny does deserve some kind of explanation though.

"So..." he blows a big breath out, "Sonny I..."

"Dean," Sonny stops him, still knows him all too well. "You don't have to explain anything to me. You look like crap, and I'm not saying we don't need to talk but as long as you need a place to crash my door is always open to you."

He smiles warmly and Dean feels oceans of tension leave his muscles. He feels a better smile than he's managed in months turn his lips upwards. "Thanks Sonny," he mumbles.

"Looks like to me what you need most is rest, some good home cooked food and some peace of mind. Hopefully we can help you out with all of those."

I hope so. Dean thinks. If he prayed he would have prayed Sonny was right. He lets himself relax into the couch, lets comfort wash over him for the first time since Sam left him. Sonny stands and then sits in front of him on the coffee and table.

And wow, Dean chokes with the sweet de ja vu.

"You taking anything?" Sonny asks softly.

Dean recoils, "No, of course not."

"Okay okay," Sonny says, smiling fondly, holding up his hands unthreateningly. "Just sick then."

" 'm not sick," Dean mumbles, eyes glazed and bright, arms unconsciously wrapping around himself, comforting his aching chest.

Sonny just arches an eyebrow, unimpressed. God, the kid hadn't changed one iota. He ducks away and bats at Sonny's hand as he goes to check his temperature.

"You are too sick," Sonny says huffing a laugh, and Dean glares at him best he can.

Sonny gets up, fondly ignoring the attitude, "There's a doc comes out here to check on the boys if something catches, I'll call him have him come around to see you."

Dean opens his mouth to protest.

"My house my rules, D-dawg," Sonny says easily, not even turning around where he has walked into the kitchen. "Need to make sure that's just your asthma and not pneumonia."

Dean frowns. "I don't have asthma."

Sonny chuckles, "How are you even still alive?"

Dean just looks blankly over at Jay who still watches him in silence. Sonny's heart clenches at the completely washed out, hopeless look on Dean's pale face. What the hell had happened to this boy?

Dean just sighs, he's too tired to fight anymore, to fight anyone. Truth; he forgot about his asthma. He shrugs, thinking its just another thing to add to his deteriorating health. The amount of weight he has dropped is terrible and he can only imagine how terrible he must look. Sam probably wouldn't even recognize him if they did meet. His dad would be ashamed, wouldn't even want him for a hunting partner.

He runs a shaky hand down his face and tries for deeper breaths. He meant to get better he really did, it just didn't happen between jobs, and the drinking and insomnia. Dean had never fathomed that recovery was a process not a switch to flip.

Or maybe it was just Dean didn't know how to cope, how to live without Sam. Without John. After all, he was nothing but what he was to others. Selflessness on Dean's part had turned to self doubt. He tried to compensate for himself through others, through the people he saved. He didn't realize it ran him ragged, rode the fence between sanity and insanity.

Sonny just frowns as Dean winces at his thoughts and the uneasy breaths they cause. When the young man breaks out in a violent fit of coughing he gives Dean's shoulder a reassuring squeeze as he grabs the phone and dials the doctor's number.

Jay finally breaks from his trance. He shuffles slowly, cautiously closer to Dean. Dean watches him through watery eyes, watching the way the big brown orbs reflect the little boy's every emotion perfectly. Fear, insecurity, questions, sorrow, loneliness...pity.

Dean freezes as Jay climbs up onto the couch beside him and settles as if he'd known Dean for years. He blinks into Dean's bloodshot green eyes for a second and then looks down and away, a small chubby hand fisting a tight grasp on the older man's utility jacket.

Sonny blinks in surprise at the picture as he mumbles details to the doctor on the phone. He shakes his head as Dean sighs, reaching to run shaky fingers through the silky strands of chestnut hair on the head that is pressed against him, leaning against his side. Jay sighs contentedly, slipping the middle and index fingers of one hand into his mouth.

Sonny doesn't even know why he's surprised.

Dean freaking Winchester.

...

Jay comforts himself. He knows people. (He's unaware that being four makes this virtually impossible) He goes about his life with two fingers stuck in his mouth as a security, lips glued shut as another one. He listens to everything, watches everything... He doesn't know a lot but he knows how to read people.

Men are to be avoided carefully, given their space. You must be very careful not to provoke them. He knows from experience, there is nothing to protect you from their strength and rage. The pain they bestow isn't worth anything you could ever do. Women are beautiful creatures, too delicate and quiet for this life...for a man's world.

A night when his whole life changed, a night that ever after he never saw his mother or father again, he met men and women both different from his parents. Women it seemed could be like a man, stronger, bolder...stand up for themselves. And not all men were like his father.

Even then he disliked all the police officers, he disliked all the men he met, but none hit him. Then they dropped him off at Sonny's and well, he liked Sonny alright. Sonny never asked him to talk, only asked him to do some chores, held his hand when he took him town and they had to cross a street. Otherwise Sonny required nothing else, Sonny knew. Little Jay just needed time.

And in Jay's own way he repays Sonny. He's just a silent ghost that pads around the farmhouse, big brown eyes that take in everything. Little hands that bring in the mail and gives it to Sonny. A thankful heart that takes his dishes to the kitchen and places them in the sink after supper. A kind soul that is more often than not curled up in the loft with the farm cat and her kittens. Stripes of sun washes over them, warming them in the afternoon. The small warm bodies are fragile in Jay's arms and it's another security to him...he's not the smallest thing in the world.

He hears the strange car pull up to the farm, places the two kittens he had been cradling into the warm hay and clambered over to the a-line window of the barn loft. He peers out, watches the young man sitting in the car, his heart softens when he watches Sonny embrace him like a long lost friend. As Sonny leads him inside he gets a full view of the man's face. His heart clenches at the old, worn look there. The one he knows, the one he feels everyday.

Abandonment, loneliness, confusion, anger mixed up with fond memories. But overall love. And the pain that never goes away because of that love.

He slips from the loft, sneaks around in his quiet way and then creeps into the living room after the stranger was settled. He's surprised to find him asleep on the couch. Jay frowns an adorable pout, at the sight of the man's white face, the sound of his rasping breaths. He doesn't like the sounds, associates them with the misery of his mother as she worked to feed him and the man of the house, as she fought against bruises and broken ribs, and sickness and infection.

He reaches out a small hand and barely skims the man's hand. He jerks his hand back at the hot dry feeling. Fills compassion and understanding well up in him as the broken man on the couch in front him mumbles broken words in his fevered rest.

"Sammy."

He pleads, and Jay knows. He understands. There is no escaping, not even sleep. This hole in his chest, missing his mom, it's a way of life.

tbc...

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	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4.

Dark brown hair that has lost all its childhood golden shine. Green eyes set in dark hollows, more intense, burning emeralds reflecting a man he no longer knows. Skin whiter than ever before, freckles standing out. (Freckles he'd always hated.)

Looking down, there are hands before him. Palms facing up. Rough and calloused, he can nearly feel the blood dripping off them. He studies the lines as if hoping for a sign even though he doesn't believe in divination and palm readers.

Turning his hands over, he looks down on the darker, rougher skin. Fingers a little crooked, some bent, shorter...a fighter's hands. And they tremble. He's got a constant shake. Weakness.

He looks up, the light in Sonny's bathroom bathing all this in a warm glow. Who is this? Dean Winchester, his mind answers back.

Who?

He sighs, turning away from the mirror, giving up once again. Disappointed, he'd hoped being here with Sonny...with the happy memories would lend him some clarity. He unlocks the door and steps out, hand on the wall beside him. An unconscious admittance of tiredness, sickness. He dries his hair with the towel around his neck, sighs as he grabs his duffle from the floor and places it in Sonny's room.

Down the stairs...that damn little boy with those damn 'Sammy' eyes standing at the bottom, watching him with said bright, sad orbs. Dean finds another sigh rushing from his lungs rasping and crackling, causing a coughing fit. Doubled over he blinks eye level into those sad, haunted eyes.

Short of breath, burning lungs, aching ribs from his last hunt, the fever draining his remaining strength. With a sold thud he more or less sits on the third to bottom step. Shaky legs spread out before him, sock feet planted on the ground.

Jay blinks and watches.

"What am I doing?" Dean asks groaning, head falling to his hands, where he hides the face he can't even claim as his own.

Silence is all he gets in return. He wasn't expecting anything, honestly, he hadn't registered his stalker as a person yet. Stairs creak, he feels the wood he's sitting on give a little, and then a warm small body is pressed against his side. He removes one hand to find Jay pressed against him once more, fingers sucked securely back into his mouth.

What was this kid's deal? (He didn't want this Sammy look a like around. He's hurting, he doesn't need something to drive the blade deeper.) Dean was miserable. He didn't want anyone around him, he didn't want anyone there for him to corrupt. He didn't want whatever he was to catch. Obviously he'd done something wrong for both John and Sam to abandon him.

He scoots over against the wall and Jay looks up at him sadly, though he makes no move to get closer. Forehead hits the cool plaster of the wall, he should really just go straight to bed. But Sonny had made him promise to eat something and at least let the doctor listen to his lungs.

Sonny appears from around the corner in the kitchen, giving the awkward pair a look.

"You two c'mon for dinner," is all he says, Dean accepted the helping hand he held out. Jay pads after them in his socked feet, eyes on Dean, watching him carefully the whole time. Dean sits, watches numbly as Jay crawls up into the wooden chair beside him.

Sonny says, placing a wide, shallow bowl full of vegetable soup and corn bread in front of Dean. He gives a smaller version of the same to Jay, places two glasses of sweet tea on the table. Jay slides one precariously over to Dean. Expression never changing, eyes taking in every one of Dean's reactions.

Dean manages a small smile, "Thanks." He mumbles, not really having the strength for anything else. The stare of this kid actually felt heavy on him. Even this little pressure was playing on his nerves, he didn't want anyone watching him, he was a mess. Pathetic, weak.

"Jay," Sonny says softly, "Leave Dean alone, he needs some space."

Jay immediately retreats back the middle of his own from where he'd been on the edge of his seat, leaning against his arm watching Dean eat. Dean sends him a stretched smile.

"It's alright Sonny," he mumbles. Lord knows he wasn't going to give anyone any trouble. He just wanted to sleep for once. Feel safe for once. Home cooked food was sitting warm and heavy in his stomach and the exhaustion was setting in.

Besides he felt guilty. It wasn't Jay's fault he couldn't accept friendship right now. He didn't deserve it, he didn't want to set this little boy on his own path. All he can think as he stares down into his bowl is that it must have been something he'd done. H spent hours racking his mind, trying to pin down the moment that sent all this into motion. The one action that had sent his brother and father packing.

He sighs with hopelessness for the thousandth time. Sonny frowns at him. Great. He's disappointing everyone now.

"Fred's here," is all Sonny says though. "He'll check you out, and then we can get you settled so you can get some real rest. I know you don't sleep in anything close to a good excuse for a bed."

Dean feels warmed by the fond smile on Sonny's face and lifts a shaky hand to swipe at his burning, gritty eyes. Someday he'll repay Sonny for all he's done and doing for him. Someday when he doesn't feel like roadkill.

Jay gets up and places his empty cup and bowl in the sink. Dean does the same. He follows the little boy into the living where Sonny had disappeared to.

"Hey Jay," a salt and pepper haired man says as they enter the room. Jay says nothing, just takes a seat on the further side of the room. The doctor walks over and hands the little boy a bright red lollipop. Jay accepts the candy, holds it against his chest, regarding the man with big wary eyes.

Sonny just shakes his head with a huffing laugh.

"The doctor here, is trying to convince Jay to let him get close enough for a checkup, as you can see he's resorted to bribery which isn't working either."

Dean chuckles, "Don't seem that shy to me." Sonny sends him an incredulous look. Dean can't worry about it now as the doctor offers him his hand.

"You must be Dean," he says kindly, "Feeling lousy I hear."

Dean shrugs, "Been better I guess."

Sonny rolls his eyes.

Fred laughs at them and opens his bag. "Alrighty then, for starters you can lose the shirt so I can get a good listen at those lungs. Though you probably don't need to," he chuckles drily, "I can hear you breathing from right here."

Sonny purses his lips, the joke in seemingly poor taste to him. Dean chuckles however, which brings on excruciating coughs as he peels the t-shirt off. Once he's shirtless and breathless he finds everyone in the room looking at him either disapprovingly or worriedly.

"From the sound of it," Fred muses, "You should have been at a doctor's long before this."

Dean has to make the conscious decision not to shy away as the man's fingers touch his bare skin, "I bet these bruised ribs feel nice with that cough." He says again drily.

Sonny gives him a truly severe look that says "we are definitely talking now."

"Any broken, you think?" The doctor asks, petting softly over the bruise-mottled skin.

Dean shakes his head, "No, know what those feel like," while smiling wryly.

The doctor just shakes his head and then finally points him towards the couch. "Sit down," he directs. He places the stethoscope in his ears and then listens in a few minutes of silence as Dean breathes as deep as he can.

Every breath burns and scrapes in his chest, tempting coughs to break out. He manages to wait until the doctor is finished listening and then doubles over coughing painfully, as his body tries to rid the mucous from his lungs.

He straights himself heaving breaths, eyes blurry with tears, Sonny closer, a hand on his shoulder. The doctor already sorting pill bottles from his bag. Dean, Sonny and the doctor blink in surprise as Jay comes to stand right in the middle of them, not even shy of the doctor.

The shock and pain written all over his face making him brave for the moment. Looking into his little eyes, Dean sees so much reflected there. His hurt, his loneliness...confusion.

What have I done to deserve this?

This must be what I look like, Dean thinks as he watches tears track down Jay's little white cheeks. He sucks in a breath as small, cold hands press against his skin, against the yellow, black and blue bruises on his torso.

Little Jay makes no sound as he cries. Sees the marks of pain and abuse on yet another person. Someone else he knows deep down was a good, kind person. He knew from the way this hurting man had whispered names in his sleep that he had loved, and loved selflessly. And had been let down.

And he knew how that hurt.

But he was safe now. Sonny loved him in his own way, and took care of him. But Dean, someone still hurt Dean. Someone left marks of hate and anger on him. Jay was safe from that now, but Dean wasn't.

But he was here with Jay and Sonny now. Sonny could keep him safe and make him better too, like he'd done for Jay. A little bit everyday Jay felt himself healing. Felt his heart piecing itself back together, knew he was building a new person on the foundation of his love and loneliness for his mom.

Dean could do the same, would do the same. He saw the same strength there in Dean he felt in himself. And little did he know he knew more about Dean than the man himself did. He wanted to speak, he wanted to say everything would work out. That time healed all wounds, that Sonny would be there, and that Jay would be there. That eventually it would stop hurting so bad. That Dean didn't need to punish himself anymore.

Dean watches in aching suspense as Jay feels over his throbbing ribs, for the first time in months he doesn't feel threatened at even the slightest human touch. As tears from Jay's cheeks fall to soak into his pants and his hands play softy over aching bones and lungs, Dean feels closer to something solid than he has since Sam left.

Jay comes to lean against his leg, little arms trying to hug him, but to small to encircle his waist.

The doctor is shocked, looking over to where the lollipop lays forgotten in Jay's former seat.

Dean head is light with the coughing fit, his body aches. Mentally he's not doing so hot, but his arms encircle the little boy on instinct. The soul he doesn't even know is his own connects with this little human being immediately.

He tries to not think about how it's his brotherly, protective instincts that have him gathering Jay close, just does it because...he actually feels better.

Feels closer to himself, feels like he's doing something that matters. He tries to not over think it, tries not to feel guilty, like he's replacing Sam or something. Just pulls his shirt back on, slips an arm under Jay and lifts him into his lap. The little boy snuggles closer, hiding his face in Dean's shirt, hand holding a death grip in the fabric.

And oh god. Dean's heart is filled to the breaking with the feeling of being needed again.

And Sonny seems to understand that this is helping heal him in ways a doctor never could. He takes the medicine from Fred and ushers him out of the house with a few quiet thank yous.

Dean knows it's not all solved, still feels tears leap to his eyes as he thinks of Sam and his dad. Still aches, still knows Sonny's going t be pretty damned curious about the bruises, and why he'd let himself get run down. Knows he's going to feel a hell of a lot guilty over this tomorrow. For letting the boy get close to him, for letting himself get close to the little boy.

But all of that was for tomorrow.

tbc...

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	5. Chapter 5

My darkness isn't the shadow of danger,

But the thought of somehow losing you.

-e.g.k.

Chapter 5.

Small body in his arms. So fragile, so still...so trusting. Steady breaths he can barely feel, even as he hugs him close, make the rise and fall on the tiny chest. He's following Sonny up the steps bearing sleeping Jay in his arms, cradled against his chest.

After tears had ceased and dried he'd fallen asleep, face still hidden in the soft, worn t-shirt. Dean let the warmth bleed into his skin, heart to heart with another human filling him with a peace he hadn't felt in a long time.

Sonny opens the door leading into the younger boys bedroom and Dean gently lays the boy on the bed Sonny indicates as Jay's. He gently tugs the sheet and blankets out from under the slumbering child and covers him carefully. Before he realizes what he's doing, he pushes long brown hair from his eyes, back onto his forehead.

Jay mumbles softly in his sleep, shifts until he's comfortable...turns into the gentle touch.

Dean sighs as he turns away, Sonny shutting the door behind them, leading the way to his bedroom where he's insisting Dean take the bed. He shuts the door behind them so they don't disturb the slumbering boys. Dean's reflexes have him catching the two white pill bottles Sonny tosses his way.

"Two of each," the older man directs as he walks into the bathroom, coming back with a cup of water. He just slits his eyes disapprovingly at Dean when he finds that the younger man has tossed them back dry. But doesn't voice the thought that Dean seems way too used to doing that.

As Dean sits heavily in the edge of the bed face looking pale, tired and way, way too old Sonny asks the question that's been on the tip of his tongue since he'd gotten there.

"So," he clears his throat. Running hands down his pant legs as he sits on the old worn couch across from Dean. "Where's your dad?"

Dean shrugs and looks away miserably.

Sonny barely shakes his head but seriously, that man.

"Sam?" He asks quietly.

And that seems to be the last straw. He watches the brave front of a man he knows crumble before him. Sees what he'd seen a glimpse of when Dean had practically fallen into his arms when he'd arrived. Haunted feelings and memories now chase shadows over his face, tears not washing them away, but only leaving muddled lines of hurt and confusion.

He knows if Dean was even halfway in possession of his right mind he'd punch him good for wrapping his arms around him and letting him gasp shallow, dry sobs into his shirt. But Dean is crazy, exhausted, sick with grief...Sonny has never seen anything half as terrifying, dark, or just honest-to-God sad.

Dean shakes uncontrollably, tears soaking through Sonny's clothes. Rasping breaths filling the room, Sonny can't do anything for him. Knows that at this point the best thing for him is probably to just get it all out.

Don't ask how but Sonny knows the younger brother isn't dead. Somehow knows that this heartbroken, lonely weeping wouldn't be the outcome of Sam Winchester's death. (He can only imagine angry denial, and hopeless desperation. Knows that not even the great Dean Winchester would come back from that.)

He sits waiting for the story, waiting until Dean can at least breath correctly again before asking his next question.

"He alright?" He asks, quietly. Hand on his back, a soothing, grounding pressure.

Dean nods, taking stronger breaths, calming hiccups setting in, "Saw him a few weeks ago, looked good."

"You're not on speaking terms? Woulda' never imagined you boys to fall out."

Dean shakes his head, wiping his nose on the back of his sleeve, "Its not like that. Stanford, full scholarship."

Sonny feels a warm smile drift over his face at the proud tone in Dean's voice, the way his eyes light up talking about his brother and where his exceptional intellect has gotten him. Dean had always bragged on Sam, like he was his father. Sonny thought grimly that Dean was probably more of a father to Sam than John ever was.

Dean's eyes reflect he's drifted off for a moment, glossy with fondness and memories. His eyes drift back to Sonny slowly with a slight grin on his face.

"Should see him," he says, recalling the way he'd seen same a few weeks ago. "Pulls the whole college thing off better than anyone else there. Straight As, got lots of friends...he's happy."

He gives a small laugh, looking down into his lap where fingers fumble with the hem of his shirt. "Couldn't be happy with us, Sonny." He looks regretful as he shoots Sonny a look, and the older man can see the crushed spirit behind it.

"I guess dad just gave up on the whole idea of family after Sammy took off..." he breaks off, looking away, across the room shrugging. He scoots up the bed away from Sonny, maintaining a more manly distance between them. Sonny knows he probably feels a little vulnerable after crying in front of him.

He leans against the headboard. Head against the wood, eye son the ceiling. Sonny now understands. Father and brother had left Dean, the very same people Dean had sacrificed everything for. Everything he knew had been pulled out from under his feet within a few months. And Dean wasn't coping. Or he was, but he was tearing himself apart. He'd be the death of himself.

Sonny knew Dean, maybe not as good as Sam, but enough to know he blamed himself for it all. At night asked himself what he did wrong, tried to figure out what he did to deserve this. Didn't realize that life was simply hard, that people were imperfect and would let him down.

That was Dean's problem. Everything was his fault, he was the one in the wrong. Where the cocky boy ever picked up that sort of attitude he'll never know, but Sonny did know Dean needed help getting his perspective right.

The lost and broken human being was not the Dean Winchester he knew. That Dean was the brave warrior, he lived for the people he sacrificed for. He's realizing now that Dean didn't know himself as that person. He only saw the brother and the son. He didn't know himself as a brave man, as a great son...as the best fricking brother that ever existed.

And that was Dean's problem. He'd lost the things that he had identified himself with, not his actual self. Sonny frowns as he realizes this is his job. Nobody was there for Dean now, just him, and he prays to God he's up to the job. Because Dean deserves the best, deserved to know himself, to be happy, to live life to its fullest as Dean Winchester.

But that was just it, how do you show Dean Winchester himself as the rest of the world saw him? How do convince him of his self, worth, that he is deserving of happiness? How do you show him that he can be what he was to John and Sam to others, that he can find meaning in other way?

Sonny has no idea. This one is going to take some work, he knows. A heavy sigh makes Dean look at Sonny, giving him a small smile. And Sonny sees it reflected there, it breaks his heart.

Dean isn't happy, doesn't think he ever will be. But he's content with where he is, like he's resigned to be this shadow of himself forever, until Sam and John will welcome back again. Sonny likes the rebellious, mouthy Dean much better. That Dean put up a fight, Sonny needed to light that fire once again. Dean needed to want to live, to do things for himself.

"First things first," he says to Dean, "Sleep, lots of it. You need to get better, that cough sounds like it's gonna be the death of you."

Dean chuckles drily, "Feels like it too," he says rubbing his sternum with his thumb. "Are you sure you don't want the bed?"

Sonny nods smiling, "I'm sure, you rest good now. It's the only way your getting out of that bed tomorrow."

Dean groans, pulling the blankets up over him.

Why had he thought it was good idea to come here again? He asks himself, laughing silently. It felt damned good to be around people who cared again. He drifts off feeling safer then he has in a long time. The weight on his chest, the raspiness of his breath shadow him into his sleep.

There is no fooling the pain in his heart though.

...

Jay rarely slept uninterrupted. Shadows and memories chased him in his sleep worse then the demons he dealt with while awake. Tonight was no different except that darkness chased after both hisself and the green-eyed man. He woke panting, scared...his dreams weren't real, his father locked safely away. But what about Dean's fears?

Jay knew their darknesses were different. Dean's hung low over his head, still very much a threat...so much heavier, so much blacker. His little feet had hit the floor before he eve knew he was fully awake. He rubs sleep from his eyes, yawns unconscious of the cute picture he makes as he pads to the door and slips out and down the hall towards Sonny's room.

He turns the knob and slips into the dark room. Silence wraps around him until he hears the noise he'd almost been expecting. Low mumblings and mutters, coming from Sonny's bed. The blankets rustle as Dean turns over, as his head tosses against the pillows.

Jay walks closer, taking in the pinched face of the sleeper. He's so near to understanding this man's pain, but just not quite there. His darkness was not danger, and Jay couldn't understand that, he'd never known any other darkness.

It's the fond, lonely mumbled cries of 'Sammy' that confuse him. Obviously Dean is in pain, but he doesn't sound as if he wants to escape it. Sounds as if he's pleading for the danger. Jay takes a hesitant step closer, he doesn't understand, he wants to end the hurt!

The moonlight slipping through the curtains make the tears leaking from the corners of Dean's eyes and down his face into his hairline shine and sparkle. Jay wants to help, he wants to understand, wants to know what it is Dean is suffering through.

...

He jerks awake on a gasping breath burning through his lungs like he'd been gargling gravel. He feels the wetness on his face, in his hair. He sighs deeply relieved it was only a dream after all. It is better to be alone and not see Sam, then to see him and be disowned.

That was his nightmare, that was the ghostly fear that followed him always.

Sam was ashamed of him.

Used to pain, he turns over onto his side to wait for sleep to steal back over him. His eye meet with dark brown, sad ones beside the bed. He should be startled, his reflexes should have had his colt trained on the imposter within seconds. Instead they're eyes meet and he lays frozen for a few moments.

Jay makes no movements, just meets his gaze. Dean has the distinct feeling he's trying to see inside him, trying to figure him out. From some reason that doesn't creep him out, lets the little boy do as he pleases. Lets the little guy have what little comfort he can get. He tells himself he'll remember to ask Sonny his story tomorrow.

He nearly rolls his eyes at himself, he's such a pushover.

Jay just sighs after a moment, and takes his fingers back into his mouth, baby lips pouting over them. Dean finds himself smiling a little, tasting the salt from his own tears on his lips. Jay warmed his heart just a little.

He scoots over a little, "Wanna get in?" He asks.

Jay waits a moment and then nods. He lets Dean wrap an arm around him and tug him into the mattress. He sits on the bed in the curve of Dean's body where he's lying on his side for a moment. Dean knows he's studying his face, taking in the tear stains.

He blinks in surprise as the little boy holds something out towards him.

A lollipop.

The candy the doctor had given the little boy, Sonny had taken it upstairs with them and left it under Jay's pillow so he could eat it tomorrow. Dean stares for a moment not quite knowing what to do, what reaction to give. Warmth fills his aching heart and he finds he's choking back tears again.

"Thanks," he whispers and takes the candy from the pudgy fist.

Jay says nothing, snuggles closer to Dean, resting his head on the mattress turned towards Dean. He sucks his fingers watching emotions chase the self over the man's face, he finds himself feeling happier when he thinks Dean looks happier with the candy.

He might not be able to understand, but he'll still do what he can. Darkness may differ, but remedies don't. A little kindness, a little love...a little light can go a long way.

tbc...

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	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6.

Bright sunlight streaming in from the window and across his face is what wakes him. Birds are singing outside, he can already hear the chattering of boys at breakfast downstairs. He's feeling comfortably warm and safe, barely remembers the shadows of his nightmares last night. He stretches and then suddenly he freezes.

A slumbering, limp little body is stretched over his chest, head resting on his shoulder, feet on either side of his waist. Jay's fingers are still in his mouth, but he's gone lax and drool soaks his hand and Dean's t-shirt. Dean finds himself smiling at the sight, a hand coasting up and down the little boy's back.

He stretches luxuriously and Jay stirs a little at the movement. He arches his back, doing some stretching of his own, exhaling a little sigh which has Dean smiling again. Fingers are sucked securely back into his mouth with a wet sound.

He snuggles deeper into Dean's shoulder and sighs again around his fingers. Dean echoes it and looks up to the ceiling not willing to move yet. Maybe it was a good idea to come Sonny's after all. He's feeling more grounded, less confused...closer to the truth.

For the first time he doesn't feel like he needs Sam and John to be happy, he feels like maybe he unearthed a little piece of the secret to living without them. He didn't actually need them to live. True, he'd never lived without them but he's finding he doesn't feel as if their absence is ripping him to pieces anymore.

Maybe it was Sonny and the memories here, or maybe it was Jay, warm and small against him, needing something from him that rooted him back to earth, that whispered of Dean Winchester to him.

After all wasn't that who he was? A caretaker, a protector, loyal to a fault, self-sacrificing...and all he wanted in return was to be needed, accepted. There was the agonizing pain in his chest. How could Sam and John turn on him? How could Sam be ashamed of him?

He closes his eyes, trying to close it all out for a bit longer, knows he has destroyed any hope of semblance of peace of mind for the day. He sighs deep and heavy, shifting Jay again. He wraps his arms around the boy, cradling his head with one hand. He turns over lowering him to the mattress and rises for the mattress.

Jay tenses with the cold sheets and air that meets his skin. He yawns and blinks in the bright light as he wakefulness overtakes him. Dean pulls on his jeans he left on the floor and rubs his hands down his face.

He sighs again looking down to Jay, who is now sitting up amongst the blankets, still sucking hair fingers. He doesn't want to be that person if he can't be it to Sam, to John. He wants to be something different. And that was his issue, that's why he was lost. Jay is blinking up st him sleepily and he can't deny the way it awakens THAT person inside him.

"You ready for some breakfast?" Dean asks.

Jay just blinks in the early morning sunlight so Dean takes that as a yes. "Come on," he says motioning towards himself.

Jay more or less crawls towards him from where he's tangled up in the blankets and Dean picks him up under his arms. Jay wraps his legs around Dean, and Dean holds him on his hip. They make it down the stairs without falling amazingly, both appearing at the bottom finishing face splitting yawns.

They pass most of the boys on the way out to school and morning chores, some calling a goodbye to Jay, others just sending Dean hooded, curious looks. Dean's too 'mostly asleep' to notice and falls into a chair at the kitchen table, Jay yawning and once they're seated, head falling back to Dean's shoulder, to suck his fingers the rest of the way to fully awake.

Sonny places a cup of coffee in front of him. Dean grunts a thank you and inhales the scrumptious smelling steam rising. He's lost in his head, lost in the regrets of the past and wishes for the future...he's sleepy and feeling just as disoriented as ever.

He doesn't even realize how contented he looks.

...

Sonny can't even believe how clueless Dean Winchester can be. He can tell by the unusually pointless way Dean looks around, the way it took him so long to notice Jay's pain and how the boy seemed to relax around him.

He also can't believe Dean hasn't figured out the secret to himself yet. But he supposes Dean has never been on his own ever before. He just about loses it when Dean comes down for breakfast with Jay in his arms, both of them sleep ruffled and yawning.

Jay hadn't been that close to a human being let alone a man since he'd come to Sonny. Now he clung to Dean willingly, laid his head on his shoulder as he blinked sleepily. Trusted Dean to hold him safe, to take care of any threats that might have come up.

Sonny had only seen the boy with big, bright alert eyes, a constant nervous tremble about him. He hardly recognized this relaxed, dewy eyed toddler that smiled shyly at Dean and pressed himself closely to the bigger body next to him.

Dean relax largely when he looked at the little boy too. The hard, dangerous look fell from his eyes replaced with something softer and deeper. His hand coasted through Jay's brown curls, he pulled the cereal bowl Sonny had provided for Jay closer to the edge, so the little boy could reach it as he sat on Dean's lap.

Dean sits sipping coffee over Jay's head looking for all the world like sleepy, pissed off mama bear, and he doesn't even realize this is the answer to all his problems and questions. Dean was used to living for Sam and John, he just had to realize he lived for all the people he saved. That even though he couldn't be with his family, what he did still mattered, mattered to the people he saved and their families, mattered to whatever entities truly existed.

Dean Winchester and this man was one and the same, but how to show Dean this?

"Sleep well?" He asks.

Dean nods, a hand snaking around the boy's waist encase he fell. "Yeah, slept really well actually."

"I found Jay in bed its you this morning when I woke up, hope you don't mind?" Sonny chuckles drily.

Dean smiles softly, "Nah, it's okay. He's alright little kid." He ruffles the hair on top of Jay's head and the kid turns around to look at him grinning too.

Jay just grinned. Straight out, goofy, all teeth grin. Sonny feels like he should be insulted, but just finds himself feeling thankful. These two were doing worlds of good of read other. He hands Dean a plate of eggs, bacon and toast, and sits down across from both of them

"Thanks," Dean mumbles as he starts to tuck in. He doesn't even wait to realize, he's actually hungry.

Sonny does however and feels triumphant.

Jay is looking longingly at a piece of Dean's bacon and twists himself around to gaze brown eyes into vibrant green ones. Dean doesn't even pause, just smiles softly as he hands the little boy what he wants, enjoying the satisfied look in his eyes, and the tighter hold he gets squeezed with.

The knee Jay sits on begins to bounce up and down a little, Dean drags his glass of juice over to the edge of the table and tilts it carefully so the kid can wash his bacon down. Dean wolfs down the rest of the food.

"Thanks for breakfast," he says looking a hell of a lot better. Color coming to his skin, redness out of his eyes, even though the black circles are still there. Sonny just smiles in return and takes the dishes to the sink.

Dean rises with Jay in his arms and follows.

"Alrighty little guy, let's get you washed up." He leans them over the sink and Jay sticks out his hands. Dean squirts some soap over his and then smears it along Jay's skin. He rubs it in and then rinses them carefully both of them giggling a bit when Jay waves his hands around to get rid of the excess water and gets Dean in the face.

They use a kitchen towel to dry off, Dean using a napkin on Jay's mouth.

Sonny watches, waits on them. He respects what they've got going on, something he can't quite understand. When Dean turns around it's the man Sonny knows that is reflected in his eyes. Confident, loving, passionate and good right to a fault.

Jay's hand is fisted in the back of his t-shirt, and Sonny doesn't even want to think of the rebound that might influence both parties when Dean has to leave again and hits the road. He hopes they will become friends, be the healing touch for each other...he just hopes that isn't the downfall of both tender hearts.

As if knowing Sonny's fears Jay turns to Dean and wraps his little arms around his neck, joining hands at the back. He presses his forehead into Dean's neck and closes his eyes sighing happily.

Sonny turns away as Dean touches his head down to Jay's.

He can almost see the nightmare playing out before him, god, he hopes they don't end up tearing each other to pieces.

tbc...

Plz review? ;)


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7.

Emptiness.

A great expanse of nothing,

Inside me.

A place where you were,

A place you left.

Now it aches.

It festers,

It burns with fever,

An anger that you abandoned me.

It's cold,

A bitterness that freezes,

You broke all your promises.

It heals, it fills...

With my love for you.

e.g.k.

Jay remembers the feeling of soft thin fingers buttoning his clothes up, drawing socks on his feet, making sure he was warm, that his shoes and socks didn't rub him. He remembers his mom zipping up his coat, laughing her beautiful, musical laugh as she pulled his beanie over his eyes and attacked him with tickles.

But most of all he remembered the way her eyes glowed, how soft her smile was, as she worked to make him comfortable and safe. He loved those moments with her. When it was just him and her and they were face to face, skin to skin. He was safe, she was taking care of everything. He hadn't felt that since she had died.

Hadn't felt it until Dean.

Strong calloused fingers were different. But the affection and sincerity of the concern in alarmingly green eyes warmed him down to his very toes. He wiggles them from within the socks Dean had slipped on, from within the boots Dean had laced up just right.

He holds out his arms as Dean slips his coat on, zips it up with a practiced loving care. The light, fond wink Dean gives him doesn't cover up the crushing ache, the longing he is feeling inside. Jay feels it, he knows something so important is missing from his friend right now.

Dean brushed his hair from his eyes after he's finished getting dressed. Tucks his shirt into his jeans, makes sure the legs of his pants are pulled over his socks...Jay realizes Dean has done this before.

Suddenly the ache and longing, doesn't seem so confusing to him anymore. This was the empty, gaping hole gauged in Dean that he needed to fill again. Jay knows only one thing will answer all his questions as he takes Dean's hand and they head outside.

Who is Sammy?

...

The air had a chilly nip to it so he put on an extra layer as if to protect himself from the cold daggers of the wind and the tender nostalgia that the cold weather brought on. He felt better this morning even with his reflections before he got out of bed. He avoided mirrors when he felt halfway happy.

Forgetting about everything for the thirty minutes it had taken to dress Jay, but his shoes on and ensure he had a coat was easy. But as he stepped out into the crisp chilled air all he could think about was Sam. Was he alright? Was he warm? Every day of Sam's school life Dean had been there to usher him off, make sure he had warm clothes, his books, his lunch.

He had little faith in anyone but himself.

Sam was a grown man, but he was still Dean's little brother.

The crisp morning air crackles in his lungs and he lets an exhale out loudly. Jay looks up at him, from where he stands beside him on the porch, holding his hand. Dean gives him a tired smile which is enough for Jay, who seems content to at least give Dean some company with his melancholy feelings.

They wander out under the trees, under the pecan tree than had stood even in Dean's time. It was a moody day, one that couldn't decide whether to be cloudy or sunny. Jay is anxious to look at his kitties since it had gotten so cool during the night. Dean follows Jay, matching his short steps with slow, calculated strides of his own.

Dean holds the barn door open with one arm locked above Jay's head. The little boy slips in, waiting for Dean to enter with fingers in his mouth. Dean frowns thinking of all the germs the little boy probably picked up touching things and then sticking his fingers in his mouth.

The air is still and dusty in the barn but no less chilly, Dean sticks his free hand in his pocket and hunches in on himself. Jay leads the way through the shadow recesses of the barn and to the ladder that leads to the loft. The little boy begins to ascend so Dean follows dutifully.

He's not sure he feels anything this morning, but maybe the feeling of contentedness is just that strange to him. He feels like he's doing right by Jay, and that makes him closer to himself than ever. It doesn't occur to the couple that they are each trying to help the other.

He climbs up into the loft crawling onto the floor on his knees an arm out just in case Jay trips. The light streaming in through the opened window brings out the dust floating in the air, the quietness around them bathes Dean in a kind of peace he isn't used to.

Jay's usual silence casts a certain sacredness on the situation, Dean knows he's being trusted and being shown a sweet loyalty from the little boy. He follows after the little figure ahead of him towards the window and it's light.

On the floor just to the left of the floor-to-ceiling window with its swinging shudders, there sits an old wooden crate. Half the front boards had been torn off. Inside a old torn up quilt padded the hard wood. A big mama cat is sprawled out on her side, kittens piled around her, some nursing, others curled up sleepily around their mother and each other.

Dean hadn't seen kittens in ages and ages, prolly since he'd been a kid at Bobby's and he and Sam had saved a litter of kittens and their mom, who had set up shop in one of the old junkers, from Bobby's old guard dog.

He goes to his knees beside the crate, Jay joins him, making himself comfortable sitting Indian style beside the crate. Forgetful for a moment that he's Dean freaking Winchester and Jay doesn't answer questions. He asks in quiet awe;

"How many are there?"

Jay tilts his head to one side, eyes confused for a moment. Then he pulls wet fingers from his mouth and holds both hands in front of him. He counts each finger diligently and stops when he gets to nine, and holds the thumb of one hand against his palm.

He holds up the fingers, looking at Dean expectantly.

"Nine? Wow."

Jay nods, smiling shyly. He reaches in and pulls a green-eyed orange kitten towards him. The little creature doesn't even blink, in fact it turn towards Jay when he pets over its little head. He cradles it close to his chest, and then looks to Dean, a blissed out, dreamy expression on his face.

"Is that your favorite one?" Dean asks, as he reaches in too. He allows the mother cat to sniff his fingers first, then he wraps his fingers gently around a black, white and orange calico kitty.

Jay nods and watches as he pulls the cat towards his chest and holds it in between the folds of his shirt and coat. The kitty immediately begins to purr as Dean scratches just under its chin and lets it share his body heat. Jay seems content with him and turns back to the kitten he's holding.

"They're so tiny, right?" Dean says more to himself than anything.

Jay looks up to him as if surprised by his speaking.

Dean just smiles, "Its a good thing your found them this place up here, or they'd probably get crushed."

Jay's face falls, panic flashes over it.

Nice going Dean, he kicks himself, idiot.

"But they're safe up here," he says smiling reassuringly, "This is a great place, you did really great, bringing them up here."

Jay send him a blinding smile at that.

Dean sighs looking down at the kitty in his hands, purring and eyes nearly shut in ecstasy. "If only life was this easy for us." He mumbles.

Jay just watches his with big, waiting eyes. He seems to enjoy it when Dean talks, though he won't complete the venture himself. Dean smiles at that, wrecks his brain to think of things to say. Feels so much better as he bends over backwards for someone else. As he forgets about his own problems...he's so close to Dean Winchester...so close to finding that soul that lives off the happiness of others, off the very goodness that he completes.

Time passes as Dean talks about everything and anything that comes his mind. Jay takes turns holding and petting each kitten. He places them each tenderly back into the crate. He ends up on his knees, he reaches over to run small fingers through the kitten's fur that Dean is still holding. He's smiling softly, Dean's not even sure if he's still listening to him.

"This one likes me, don't ya think?" He says, "Look she's asleep, and she's purring."

"Bet she likes me better than even you," Dean teases. Jay's smile broadens, but he tilts his head as if doubtful. Dean just chuckles and looks down to watch Jay's chubby, but nimble and gentle fingers pet the kitten exactly the way it liked.

"I'm glad I came here," and he doesn't realizes he's said it out loud until Jay looks up. Jay wasn't going to tell anybody about the happy/miserable tears he cried. Not even he knew which one he really was.

He clears his throat, watching Jay with wet eyes as the little boy scoots over beside him. He leans on his thigh, reaching across to pet the kitten from the more comfortable position leaning against the big man.

"Glad I came here, been alone for a long time."

Jay looks up at him with big sad eyes.

The way they mirror a Sammy that is long gone...a Sammy that needed him. It breaks something inside him, and whether it was a good wall or a bad wall it comes tumbling down.

He smiles through tears, "Glad I came here and met you..." he whispers, and reaches out the fingers of one hand to tickle Jay along his ribs.

The little boy grins and shies away.

"And you showed me your cats, thanks for that, by the way." Jay smiles again and gets close again, fingers back to dancing over the kitten's back.

His eyes jump shyly to Dean's every so often, a scared, edgy look bleeding into them eventually. Dean wonders what he's done wrong, he hadn't meant to upset the fragile kid at all.

"Who's Sammy?" A little voice asks, hoarse with disuse, a little lisp. Big brown, puppy dog eyes looking up at him with insecure, nervous tears brimming there.

Dean freezes.

tbc...

PLZ REVIEW! ;)

Going to be posting more, gotta finish is up hopefully before Thursday ! Can't wait for our boys to be back!


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8.

There was an emptiness there in my heart until I realized,

With my love wrapped all around you,

You were never truly gone from me.

Run all you want, my love,

MY LOVE can follow you anywhere...

My love is with you everywhere.

e.g.k.

...

Who's Sammy?

A simple enough question. One, in the past, Dean was overtly capable of answering. Now it entirely blindsides him. Over the past months only one question, one mystery had echoed like torture through his mind. Who am I? Who is Dean Winchester?

Now; who is Sammy?

Who was Sam? Did Dean really know his brother now? Did he know the kid who smiled goofily at passing crowds of college girls, who bought extra strong scented laundry detergent, who didn't lay salt lines on his window seals and door jams?

Sam had changed. John had changed. Dean Winchester and not. It hits him like a eighteen wheeler truck. This was his pain, this was his confusion. He had wracked his brain trying to figure out what he had done to deserve desertion, why his brother and father had left him bend with such ease.

He was the same. He was the father's son, the brother's brother and that was never changing. That was why he had lost his why, that was why he lost sight of who he was because when John and Sam left his side he lost that part of him...but it didn't change it.

He was still that man, he was still the rescuing hunter, the righteous savior. Every time he saved someone, every time he killed a big bad and nasty he was John's son. Every time he cradled a child in his arms, protecting them from the evil of the world, every time he befriended a little boy, showed him affection and loyalty like the child had never known he was Sam's brother.

And that's who he was. He was everyone's son, everyone's brother...everyone's help in trouble, comfort in sorrow, strength in fear.

The emptiness was still there, but now it was filled with surety that Sam might change, but his love never would. Sam could go anywhere, but Dean would be there with him in faith, in love...everywhere.

He looks down to Jay who still looks shocked by the little miracles that had fallen off his own tongue. And Dean feels fresh tears spring to his eyes. This is who he is. Regardless of where Sam and John were, or what they thought of him...this was what he was.

He took the broken, things as broken as he and he fixes them...he tries at least. He knows he'll never be fully repaired without Sam, without his family. But those weren't the rules for the people he helped. They could be healed, they could be mended...the rest of their lives would be long and beautiful. And Dean could help with that, he could save those spiraling and he could point them sunwards, show them hope and light. That's who he is.

Jay looks momentarily like a deer caught in head lights...his eyes are big and scared like he knows he's done something he might regret. But it seems either his curiosity or his desire to help Dean is stronger.

He takes a deep, shuddering breath, "Who's Sammy?" He asks again, after waiting through Dean's silent brainstorm.

Dean knows he must look like a fish with his mouth bobbing open and closed. He realizes Jay has managed to hit the nail right on the head, seemingly knows him better in just two days that Dean knows himself.

Who he is to Sam is who Dean is to himself and Jay hopes to find this out with the answer of his question. He could never thank the little boy enough for helping him to see Dean Winchester again.

"Sammy is my little brother," he answers softly.

Jay nods sagely, and Dean thinks the talking must be over, but he's surprised again, "What happened to him?"

He asks, almost fearfully, like he's afraid to hear what torture Dean has endured by losing his little brother.

So Dean almost blushes when he looks down and says, "He went away to college."

Jay purses his lips, he frowns, knowing that his mother would have never left him while she was living, but far be it from to judge anyone he knew so little about, Dean seemed to love him very much and not fault him at all.

"At least his alive." He says looking into Dean's sparkling green eyes, with such childish innocence Dean sees how he really should feel about the whole situation.

At least he's alive.

Dean laughs shakily at that. By all odds Sam shouldn't be alive. He shouldn't be alive, their dad shouldn't be alive...they had all had extremely close calls.

"Yeah," he nods picking at straws of hay on the floor. "Yeah, you're right, I'm thankful for that. Sammy...he deserves to be happy and safe."

He sees hurt flash suddenly over Jay's face...

"But you're alone," his little voice asserts.

And there it is. There's the kicker. That's what really hurts, that's what really messes with his head. What sets him back, what makes him question himself.

Dean nods, biting the inside of his mouth.

"Me too," Jay mutters sadly, leaning into Dean's side. "Feels like forever, but I know it's only been a couple of months."

Dean is shocked by the age and wisdom he hears in the little child's voice.

"What happened?" he asks, eyeing the little boy, wanting to know when the conversation got too much.

Jay shudders and pushes his body into Dean's, the little hand he's not using to pet the kitten clenched in a tense fist.

"They took daddy away, and mama is sleeping in the graveyard."

Dean blinks shocked at the easy, blunt way the child puts it.

"Daddy did it to mama," he whispers, eyes haunted as they stare out into the sky through the windows. Dean wants to wrap his arms around himself to protect his consciousness from the pain in Jay's voice and eyes.

Dean watches as clear drops fill his eyes, no sound has escaped him yet, but soon tears are brimming over and spilling down his cheeks. Dean gently places the slumbering kitty in the crate along with his mother and siblings.

His arms encircle the little form and draws him into his lap, and cradles him close. A gasping sob escapes Jay as soon as his face is hidden against Dean's chest. Dean holds him close silently, a hand drifting up and down his back comfortingly.

From what he's heard about this little boy this is the first time he's allowed himself to truly mourn the death of his mother and wickedness that was his father.

"It's okay Jay," he whispers into his tangled hair, "Its okay to let it all out, you'll feel better." Jay gets a tight grip on his coat and pulls himself impossibly closer. "Shsh, I gotcha," he comforts, "I've got ya now."

Jay sobs hard and long against Dean, he feels the shuddering desperate breaths, the trembling in his limbs, knows this is good for Jay in the long run, but possibly affect him poorly in the near future. He needs someone there for him right now, needs someone to hold him, care for him...make sure he's safe and loved, someone who doesn't need anything in return.

Dean can do that. Dean knows how. That's who he is.

It's seems like the boy will never calm down, but Dean just holds him closer all the time. Eventually he scoots them up against the wall so he can lean against it. Still holding Jay safe in his lap, cradling his tawny head in a big palm, the other one still laying reassuringly on his back.

He whispers promises of safety, of happiness someday. Darkness can never last forever...and Jay already knows this. He shushes him through hard sobs, a warm hand comes to rest as a guide on his tiny chest for his gasping breaths when he can't catch them fast enough.

A calloused thumb rubs away scalding tears, presses a loving, grounding kiss into his hair until he feels it on his scalp. And Jay feels better, he's comforted...Dean knows just how to do it. After all he has had practice.

And Dean? Well, he is content. He loves the feel of Jay in his arms. The knowledge that he calms and feels safe because of him makes him happier than he's been in months. This is who he is...he has found Dean Winchester. Or rather a special little boy showed him who he wasn't.

He wasn't changed, he hadn't evolved with John and Sam, and he doesn't think he ever will...after all it's his foundation, it's the very soul, the center of Dean Winchester. And even if he can't protect, serve and sacrifice for John and Sam, he can do it for others. Others who need it too.

Jay turns himself towards Dean, curling up tighter. Fingers slip into his mouth, and he falls into a forgetful sleep with a few fitful sighs. Dean smiles and sits quiet for a few moments. Turns out he doesn't need a mirror, doesn't even need to look at his hands or how much people love him to know who he is. He sees it reflecting back to him in the contented, sleeping expression of the little child in his arms.

tbc...

PLZ REVIEW!

Only one chapter left to go! ;)


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9.

Sonny is back at his kitchen sink, taking another stress relieving drink of water, he's coming to realize it's a habit with him. It's been a couple of hours since Dean and Jay took off and he's starting to wonder what Dean Winchester and a mute kid could possibly do for that long without one of them going insane. But then they both have always surprised him.

They were both probably his most endearing and troubling boys over the years. It seemed only fitting that they became so closely knit together. He could see the old Dean flitting around under the surface of this confused, lonely man staying with him, and he knew it would only take the smallest of things to start the crack that would break the thin ice between the two persons.

As he worried his head about just how to go about this he saw the most amazing of sights coming from the barn. Dean Winchester, arms wrapped tight around a little body. The child comfortable cradled there, content...sleeping. He could clearly see it was Jay by the hair and fingers in the mouth.

It's wasn't the boy that amazed him, it was the man that carried him. That was Dean Winchester. And even though Sonny had never met the full grown man he knew as soon as he saw that confident stride, and lips set hard in a barely turned up line that this was the strong, young man that D-dawg had grown up into.

The life, excitement and determination that came of him in waves was nearly overwhelming. It only added to his 'man among men' persona. Sonny has to laugh, this was exactly how he expected Dean to grow up. And it's how he expects Dean had been before John and Sam had left him to fare for himself.

Sonny guesses he couldn't fault the brother, but he certainly could the father. Frankly, Sonny just wasn't much one for John Winchester. He about gave him some credit for raising such a hell of a man, but then he supposes most of that probably went to Dean.

And with someone like Dean at his back, Sonny isn't at all surprised Sam Winchester was at Stanford making name and career for himself.

He watches the man make his way back to the house, Sonny doesn't even attempt to hide the smile on his lips as he opens up the screen door for Dean and lets him.

"Shut up," Dean mumbles, without any true heat.

He takes a seat on the couch, not relieving himself of Jay, just cradles him closer. Fingers grasping him tighter now that he's sharing his presence with someone else. Jay trusted him to keep him safe, trusted him enough to talk...he wasn't about to let him down.

Sonny sits in the recliner watching the pair, wonders what happened to pull Dean from his conundrum.

"How did I get so lost, Sonny?" He asks in a near whisper.

Sonny just shakes his head, "That's not the way it works Dean. It's not about being lost and found...it's about learning to know yourself no matter what the circumstances."

Dean looks down nodding, "I guess after Sam and dad left I just lost sight of my purpose, my job. I thought I was only Dean to them, when really who I am, I am to everyone."

Sonny feels a thankful smile nearly splitting his face. He scoots up int the recliner, a hand falling heavy and comforting on Dean's shoulder, "Son, you just remember, no matter where you are, what happens to you...what other people do, even your family...your first loyalty is to yourself. No one has to live with you every single day for eternity except for yourself. You remember that, and you do right by you..." he jabs a finger into Dean's chest.

"You Dean." He reiterates.

Dean nods, and Sonny watches tears make those emerald green eyes shinier than ever.

Sonny nods and backs away from his space, "And Dean?"

Dean looks up quickly.

"I'm glad you came here."

Dean gives a small huff of a laugh, "Yeah me too, definitely me too."

Sonny rubs hands down his jeans, heart aching what he was about to say, with everything in him he wanted Dean to stay, but he knew what his boy needed.

"Now I'm not trying to run you off," he says, "But I know you've probably got a hell of some work to do."

Dean nods again, "Yeah, there's a gig in Colorado."

Sonny nods, he already knows the imminent heartache for himself, Dean and Jay when the time for departure came.

Dean looks down at the sleeping boy in his arms and a sad, but content smile lights up his sill somewhat drawn face. "I think he'll be okay now." He says softly, fingers pushing wild hair away from his forehead and eyes.

Sonny arches an eyebrow, but is otherwise silent, he catches the mischievous twinkle in Dean's eyes.

"Yeah," Dean sighs, "Poor guy just wanted someone to listen to him, opened up right away."

Sonny's eyes widen, "Now you listen here, young man..."

Dean just laughs and sits back more comfortably in the couch, "I'm just kidding," he mumbles still looking into Jay's sleeping face. "I guess he just needed someone he understood, or who he felt had been where he was."

Sonny nods smiling again. "He acted different towards you since the start, I though maybe you could both help each other."

Dean chuckles softly, "Well, you pinned us bang on, Sonny."

"Only here to help."

"Thank you," Dean says seriously.

"It weren't nothing, D-dawg," Sonny drawls, brushing him off.

"No really," Dean impresses, "Thank you for me, thank you for Jay...thank you for all the boy like us."

Sonny feels tears jump to his own eyes, he clears his throats over the lump there, he looks Dean dead in the eyes, "You're welcome Dean, and really nothing is a better thank you, than you alive...being the best you can. Like I know you are.

"No matter how much you put yourself down, no matter how short you fall of your own expectations you have repaid a thousand time over by just being the man you are. I respect you, and I'll miss you. Don't wait ten years and for a breakdown this time."

Dean chuckles, and wipes suspiciously at his eyes, "If it's always going to be such a chick flick I'm never coming again."

"Oh hush your mouth," Sonny says rising, and walking towards the kitchen, "You eat it up."

Dean laughs fondly after him, not arguing.

He sighs happily and looks back down at Jay. He's found himself. He helped a little boy with eyes alarmingly like Sammy's find his own way. He's reconciled himself to the fact that Sam has moved on, Sam is making something more than just Dean of his life. It's okay.

The emptiness is somewhat filled, the ache is somewhat healed. He's ready to live, enjoy being himself, do his job. It's okay that he misses Sam and John. And it's okay that some days he feels like he can't go on one more damned step, it's okay if sometimes he feels alone and lost, it's okay as long as he goes on saving people, hunting things. Because now he realizes more than ever that the gaping hole in his heart; missing them. It's just a way of life.

the end.

Thank you so much for reading and joining me for this little adventure! I realize it kind of turned out to be emo and fluffy, but what the hell?! I loved every minute, and I hope you did too! Can't wait for Thursday ! Omg, I might be hyperventilating just a little bit :)! Been missing our boys so bad.

Anyways ITS THE LAST CHAPTER SO PLEASE, PRETTY (extra pretty with a cherry on top) PLEASE LEAVE ME A REVIEW! (Also any prompts or stories u want written, I'd love to hear them. :)

HURRICANE MATTHEW hit us pretty hard here in North Carolina so I'm posting these two chapters together because I don't know when I'll get wifi again. Plz pray for me, that our electricity comes back before Thursday night !


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